


A Formless Monkey Gets Hit By A Car

by FormlessMonkeys



Category: Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go!
Genre: Gen, More characters to be added, POV Multiple, Recovery, a lot of blood, after season 5, forcing skelemandy to take a chill pill, formless science, this has gibotto and spova n all that but its not a focus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormlessMonkeys/pseuds/FormlessMonkeys
Summary: My first multichapter fic? I hope it goes somewhere!After sustaining horrible injuries in a freak accident, our lovable clone, Skelemandarin, is found by Antauri, who is looking for change.Skelemandarin is forced to recover from injuries, both mental and physical, that he's had his entire life.(short chapters, I'm still getting used to this)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. CRACK

I'll admit. I didn't look both ways. But in my defense, having exactly one eye makes it easy to forget. Plus, I'm a tough monkey. I've handled worse than a high-speed collision.

Which is why I don't expect to wake up at the feet of the robot who could crush my entire ribcage with only his mind and only doesn't do so out of honor. I’m not even aware of anything else in my surroundings before I’m on my feet trying to scramble for any sort of cover, but Antauri has me backed into a corner. I don't remember even being NEAR a corner. Was I thrown that far? Or did Antauri find me on the side of the road and… NOT kill me when he had the chance?

Raising my claw to try and attack, his face turns from stern to horrified. I don't really realize why until I hear a wet  _ snap _ . Antauri steps out of the way of my oozing,  _ still writhing  _ arm as it lands a few feet behind him. 

Huh. 

That’s not good.

Despite the impressive amount of bleeding currently happening, I manage to stay conscious. 

Barely.

_ That’s _ good. What’s not good is the fact that now I’m facedown on the concrete at the feet of  _ Antauri _ . And I’m dizzy. With my good arm, I'm able to lift myself up just enough to be able to see him as he inspects me. Despite the metal face, he's actually pretty expressive. 

I haven’t really needed to read faces, but I assume he’s expressing  _ disgust _ at the sight of me. Honestly, I would too, if I were him. I'm a disgusting creature. Though, apparently not gross enough to keep Antauri from picking me up. I bare my teeth and try to struggle out of his hands, but I'm too weak to really do anything but squirm. He repositions me so his hand holds my legs, and my head rests on his shoulder. I'm scrawny enough for him to carry with one arm like a  _ baby _ . The second I break free I’m going to disassemble him like a broken calculator. Because I can totally break free from a machine made to kill. It's good that he hasn't crushed me, or thrown me, or… well, a lot of different ways he could kill me come to mind. I still haven't stopped squirming.

He stops to pick up my arm and uses his jetpack to fly off, the sound making me jolt. I keep struggling, even though he quickly reaches a height that would kill me if I managed to escape his grasp. He's taking me back to the robot, obviously… but what for? I've caused him nothing but trouble and pain. Falling to my death would be more bearable than facing the team in this state.

He's probably gotten in contact with my original and will keep me in a cell until he comes to pick me up and  _ do what he will  _ with me. My  _ existence  _ has caused Mandarin enough pain to last about 5 lifetimes. I… actually have no idea where he might have ended up, or if he’s alive, but the fact that I haven’t seen him die makes him a threat in my eyes. Eye.

Antauri holds me a little tighter as we land at the foot of the robot and go up the elevator. It's exactly one color, but it's enough of a color to make me nauseous. Or maybe that’s the blood loss. I move my oozing stump sharply, splattering some blood on his face. That'll show him.

We enter the command center, and I'm genuinely terrified. He's showing me to the team… even if they dont kill me, it's going to be humiliating. I don’t even have dignity and they’re taking that away.

"Team? Patrol was eventful." Antauri says. The team stops what they're doing and gathers around, about 3 feet away. The boy changes from his red sweater to the battle outfit I usually see in a flash of green light. "Stand down. He's no threat."

I growl in protest. I am a threat!

"Is he… alive?" Nova asks. 

"Yes, but he's very weak." 

"Antauri, are you sure he's safe to have in the robot?" Sparx takes a step back. Satisfying. "He's tried to kill us for  _ years _ ." 

"He made an attempt at an attack when I found him, but he only managed to hurt himself. I doubt he could even walk if I set him down right now."

If he put me down, I could make a run for it, maybe get down the elevator. I  _ try _ to tell him I can walk, I can show him, but what comes out is,

"I cou-" Then silence as my mouth moves. They seem to understand anyway.

Gibson looks visibly concerned as Antauri sets me down very, very gently. He even holds me steady for a second. This is it. I tricked him into letting me go, now all I need to do is run, I turn, take a step…

And pass out.

Dammit.


	2. Rabid Squirrel Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> because this can't be easy.

"Well. He looks like he really tried." Otto says, looking at Mandarin's unconscious body as he bleeds on the floor.

"Gibson, can you join me in the med bay?" I scoop up the scrappy orange simian, using both hands to carry him as gently as possible, "I believe he has a multitude of internal injuries, beyond the obvious." 

"Antauri, are you sure this is a good idea? The war may be over, but we're still not even on great terms with the  _ original _ Mandarin." Gibson says, following me to the med bay despite his concerns. “I mean, we could call more often…”

"One must be alive and functional to attempt to make connections with anybody." I lay him on the operating table, then place his severed arm-claw next to him. Looking at him in real life, not in blurry photos from citizens who have had  _ sightings _ of him, for the first time in nearly a year was a lot more underwhelming than I expected. I was prepared for a Mandarin who had found a source of food, or done some training… but he looks even worse now. Gibson has already started to clean the area around his arm. I can't help but study Mandarin further. His chemical burn that covers half his face and deformed his ear is still bright red, clearly not healed, covered in scratches that I'm not sure are self-inflicted or from something else. He might as well have been cleaning it with sandpaper. A kind of yellow-green crust covers his blind eye, the tight, scarred skin making it impossible to close it all the way. His fur is dirty and matted, besides the fur on his arm that Gibson is currently shaving off to prevent infection. The uniform appears unchanged, even a little loose on him. He's so dreadfully thin that I'm unsure a digestive system would fit in the area it's supposed to. I suddenly feel  _ grateful _ for my lack of a sense of smell. Gibson aligns the severed arm with Mandarin's stump.

"This circulatory system appears to be  _ based _ on that of a monkey, with some glaring differences. It's not out of my realm of work, but there are many unknown variables."

"Just do what you are able."

Gibson raises the table slightly and begins working on reattaching the arm. There was a chance that he could grow it back, but I have no clue if that is taxing on his body, or If there is a limit to how many times he can do it. This would be the  _ third  _ time he'd have to regrow a significant part of his arm. Trying to avoid that is our best option.

“What happened to him? These injuries are  _ very _ recent, definitely by blunt force…. Though I’ve never seen a blood vessel tear so evenly.”

“He got hit by a low-flying car.”

“A low-flying car?” Gibson repeats. 

"The driver actually stopped to take pictures, but not to help."

“How in the universe did you find that out?”

“I follow the Shuggazoomian cryptid forums,” I say, shrugging. 

Gibson looks away from his work to look at me. I’m not joking, and he can tell. 

“I’m a known member. People tag me in Mandarin posts.”

“Chiro really should not have introduced us to social media, none of those words sound natural coming from you,”

“Anything can come naturally if one practices.”

He smiles under his surgical mask, and goes back to suturing up the ragged flesh. He finishes up quickly.

"Could you activate the scanner, Antauri?"

I oblige, and move said machine from the ceiling to over the table. Gibson and I observe the screen as it works. 

Gibson begins listing everything out of place for a healthy monkey.

"Left arm fractured and broken in multiple places, that's to be expected... Great Caesar's ghost! There's a definitive curve in the bone! Is that permanent?" He points at the deformation and looks back at me, then continues, "five broken ribs, a collapsed lung.. no, that's partially healed, he's been functioning on half of his possible lung capacity for  _ who knows _ how long. His digestive tract is downright unrecognisable, he has about half as many teeth as he should, and if I'm not mistaken… his helmet has been partially lodged into his skull, at the very least, deep in the flesh.. Probably has a concussion as well as several fractures in his skull. There are several places where internal bleeding is  _ likely _ , but I cannot find any evidence of it. Yet."

"That's just what you are able to observe,"

"If I were to turn the automatic analysis on, I'm sure the machine would explode just from how many things are wrong with him. How is he  _ alive _ ?."

"Luck, most likely. Is there anything we can do?"

"Not until we can find a sedative and a numbing agent that would work with his unique biology." Gibson takes some of the flesh he removed and places it in a specimen jar. "I was unsure of your decision to help him, and I still am, but I at least understand your desire now."

Otto peeks through the doorway, "So you'll need a spare room to be set up?"

Gibson quickly shifts from concerned to excited as Otto enters the med bay. "Otto! you need to see these scans! You won't believe the things that are wrong with this monkey!"

"I heard a lot of the things you listed from outside! and, well, he  _ smells _ sick. I think I can baby proof a room, but Mandarin could probably find a way to hurt himself on anything." He says, looking at the multilayered x-ray. "Oh! Gibson, I found one of his missing teeth!"

"What? Where?"

"It's in his leg." He points at the left knee.

Gibson makes a squawking noise that, if one concentrated hard enough, could possibly be read as the word “what”, but is too high pitched for this realm of existence. While it is an incredibly interesting subject, I sense these two will quickly get off track ogling the piles of miracles and problems that is Mandarin the clone.

“That is an issue that we will have to deal with eventually, but for now, we need to prepare for when he wakes up, which may not be far from now."

Otto seems to snap back to focus, "On it, boss!” 

He grabs a set of linens from storage that we keep for multinight medbay stays, and runs off to one of the many rooms of the robot. "By the way, you've got something on your face, Antauri!"

Gibson finishes setting the bones in his arm, and finishes it with cast.

"How in the universe will we be able to keep him from ripping this off?" I ask.

"Would he do that? Certainly he must have  _ some _ sense of self preservation."

I don't answer.

"You're right. I'll go see if I have a material that may work to reinforce this in my lab.”

He leaves. I take a moment to see if Mandarin is still breathing, then turn around to grab a cloth to wipe his blood off of my face.

I hear a thunk, a yelp, and the clattering of an entire shelf of medical supplies collapsing.

Apparently, I can’t take my eyes off of him for one second. 

He’s backed into the corner behind the table, in a pile of gauze and other wound closures. I take a step towards him and he starts to growl.

“Mandarin… calm down.”

Obviously, he doesn’t calm down. He tries to get into a battle stance, even putting some weight on his freshly reattached arm.

“Mandarin.”

“Fuck off.”

“No. Mandarin. Stop moving before you hurt yourself.”

He answers by dashing out of his hiding spot in a complicated zig zag towards the exit. An evasive maneuver that does nothing to stop me from picking him up with the power primate. He screeches and thrashes in the air, shouting. Only every fifth word is discernable and all of them insults and swears. The entire team starts to watch this struggle. 

“Otto, is that spare room ready?” I say, as if nothing was happening. He nods, then leads me to a seldom used room near storage. He keeps his distance.

I step into the room and close the door behind me, still keeping Mandarin a few feet above the floor. I grab the blanket from the end of the bed, and grab him with it, holding him at arm's length, but on the floor. He keeps shouting and struggling in his new blanket burrito.

“Mandarin. Calm.”

Only a snarl in response.

“We are trying to  _ help _ you.”

“You’re an idiot if you think I’d believe that for even a second! Get your hands off of me!”

“If you are quiet and calm for ten seconds I will, indeed,  _ fuck off _ .”

He struggles for a few more seconds, but slowly, he begins to slow down. Whether he’s tired himself out or if he’s taking my offer is unclear, but soon, he’s quiet besides his ragged breathing. I quietly count to ten, before letting go of his shoulders.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately scrambles for cover under the bed, but he isn’t swearing at me anymore.

I enter ghost mode and walk through the door, taking no chances on another escape attempt. The entire team is waiting outside.

“If every day with him here is that eventful, I’m going back to saving planets from death-gods.” Sparx says.

“He’ll calm down.” I say, more hoping than believing it, “Eventually he’ll figure out he’s not in any danger.”

“He is, though.” Nova says, “He’s a danger to himself. And you, if you’re not careful.”

“That is true, but he has a very strong survival instinct. I believe he’d stop before truly offing himself.”

“Antauri’s the most careful, though!” Otto backs me up.

Chiro shrugs, and comes out of hyper-mode. “I guess if he’s locked in there, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The very distinct sound of breaking glass can be heard from the inside of his room.

“That.”


End file.
